


All That Matters

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other, Pre-Relationship, Scene: The Bus Ride (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: Aziraphale sleeps on the bus home from Tadfield.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89
Collections: Name That Author Round Two





	All That Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Fixed a typo before posting but otherwise this is as it was submitted!  
> Thanks again to everyone on the GO events server for a great game!
> 
> EDIT: The prompt was: "I hated that wallpaper, anyway." and you should definitely check out the other responses in the collection this work is a part of. They are varied and wonderful.

Aziraphale sleeps fitfully on the bus. It’s a miracle, Crowley thinks, that he’s sleeping at all; he’d almost think it was an accidental miracle of his own making if he wasn’t absolutely certain he didn’t have any more miracles in him. It’s strange; surely Crowley should be the one who’s asleep on the angel’s shoulder, and not the other way around. But even as he thinks it, Aziraphale stirs, and Crowley touches his hair in reassurance until he settles down again.

They stop at the Beaconsfield Services - the driver being in dire need of some sort of refreshment and, Crowley would imagine, a trip to the toilets - and Aziraphale lifts his head for a moment.

“What time is it?” He sounds delightfully fussy, even as his words run together in his sleep. Crowley’s heart swells painfully. Oh, he hopes they survive this. If they survive this, he will ensure that his angel never has to sleep alone again. If he doesn’t want to; Crowley has to remember that Aziraphale might not be interested in his nocturnal company. He goes too fast, he always has. Perhaps in a few years he’ll broach the subject in conversation, if they survive. For now, Aziraphale has asked him a question.

“Er…” He squints at his watch until he can work out which time is _London._ “Nearly ten.”

“I have to open the shop!” Aziraphale tries to sit up, but Crowley eases him back into the seat with a sigh. How many times tonight will he have to break his angel’s heart?

“It- the shop, it burned down. Remember?”

“Oh.” The corners of Aziraphale’s mouth turned downwards. “All of it?”

“Yeah, angel. Believe me. I was right in the middle of it.”

“Oh! Oh, Crowley, are you all right?”

Crowley ducks forward to look into his friend’s eyes, and finds them firmly closed. _Sleep-talking._ It’s adorable, in its own way, though Crowley would rather rip his own head off than admit to even thinking the word. But it also means that he can’t take heart from the angel’s urgent, albeit somnolent, tone of concern.

“I’m fine, angel. Just fine.” For now, at least. Heaven and Hell aren’t happy, so Crowley’s not counting on an eternity to spend blissfully avoiding _The Sound of Music_.

“Oh, well, that’s all that matters, then.” Aziraphale pats his hand firmly and his head lolls back onto Crowley’s shoulder.

“Are you…” He knows it means nothing; he knows Aziraphale is asleep. “Are you sure, angel? Your shop- your home-”

“Not important,” Aziraphale mumbles. “I hated that wallpaper anyway.”

And Aziraphale sleeps on, as the bus trundles off through the darkness towards London, blissfully unaware of the demon carefully cradling him against his own body and trying to hold onto the moment forever.

If time slows a little, during their journey, there’s nobody to notice.


End file.
